


The Devil At My Shoulder

by TheDarknessFactor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Dark, F/M, Hurt Bruce Banner, Prompt Fill, Protective Natasha Romanoff, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4493952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarknessFactor/pseuds/TheDarknessFactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce is on the floor - it’s the first thing she sees.  Curled in on himself as though for protection.  No sign of blood or external injuries.  That only makes Natasha’s blood run cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Devil At My Shoulder

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a dark fic, so I wrote a dark fic. Be advised that there blood and torture both happen in this.
> 
> Prompt: ""Sometimes I confuse my left from my right." Bruce and Nat are both sharp, so I'd love to see your take on this prompt :)"
> 
> I hope you guys like it!

_“It’s a nice little town.  It’d be a shame if it was reduced to rubble.”_

Those words still ring in Natasha’s ears, even as she creeps along a shadowed alley towards a pool of light caused by an oil lantern.  She presses herself up against the wall, feeling the heat of the bricks seeping into her skin.  More so than those words, however, what she keeps hearing is the cry of pain that followed.

The few Mongolian locals don’t see her as she slips past them, towards the town outskirts where she now knows a little cabin stands.  There is orange light streaming from the window and no sign of movement, but Natasha feels goosebumps on her flesh and knows that it isn’t abandoned.  In spite of her instincts screaming at her, she goes up to the front door and knocks.

She’s dealing with an equal.  She needs more time to assess the situation before she makes a move.

“Come in.”

Bruce is on the floor - it’s the first thing she sees.  Curled in on himself as though for protection.  No sign of blood or external injuries.  That only makes Natasha’s blood run cold.

Yelena is sitting on a chair above him.  “Thank you for coming,” she says, her voice soft and American-accented.  “I didn’t want to have to do this to Dr. Banner, Natalia, but nothing ever motivated you quite as much as the pain of others.  Not even your own.”

Natasha says nothing.  She’s careful to make sure that her face gives away nothing as well.  

Bruce doesn’t seem to be aware that she’s there.  His eyes are open but his brow is scrunched, like he’s still in pain.  There could be drugs involved, but until Natasha’s sure she needs to tread gently around him.  Yelena stares at her with an open expression, which is more terrifying than her agent-face.  She’s not wearing a disguise, either.

“I would like a favor, Natalia,” Yelena finally states.

“Ha.”

Without warning, Bruce cries out again, tensing up and arching his back.  His eyes flare green momentarily before they fade back into brown.  It takes a concerted effort for Natasha not to spare him a glance, keeping all of her attention focused on Yelena.  The other woman keeps smiling like there isn’t a man writhing in pain at her feet.

“There is no point, Natalia,” she says.  “I know he is important to you.  You would not have come for him otherwise.”

“Say he is,” Natasha answers.  She has a knife.  She could throw it quickly enough to bury it in Yelena’s jugular.  “Why did you think you would need him to coerce me?  I might’ve been willing to do a favor to an old friend.”

“Maybe.  But would you have been willing to kill Captain America?”

Natasha almost wants to laugh, because that’s probably the most absurd thing she’s ever heard.  Kill _Steve_?  As if.  First off, he’s too stubborn to die.  Secondly, she owes him far, far too much to turn on him, no matter the situation.  Thirdly, she knows Bruce, and she knows that he would trust her to find a way out of this.

Well then.  She’d better find a way out of this.

“Why?” she asks.  Keep stalling.

“I don’t have to give you my reasons, Natalia,” Yelena bites out, and there it is - the small burn that Yelena has always carried, that Natasha knows will always be there no matter how poised Yelena appears to be.  “I have a rather compelling reason for _you_ , however: say you refuse.  Then I suppose you’ll have to watch as I make Dr. Banner squirm, and scream, and probably cry as men who don’t understand what we’ve gone through do.  How can he know what it is to choose evil over death?”

“How can you know what it is to understand someone, Yelena?” Natasha counters.

Yelena’s face twists into an ugly snarl.  Then - the movement is almost imperceptible - her hand twitches, and Natasha can see it now: a sensor on Yelena’s wrist, attached to a wire, which is probably connected to Bruce somehow.  Channeling electricity through him?  It’s a possibility.

Yelena is torturing him by increasing the rate of her own pulse.  It’s a mark of the control she possesses.  She merely has to breath more quickly and the pain will be enough for Bruce to Hulk-out.  

“It’s fine,” Natasha says.  “I already know why.  You blame the Captain for what was done to us - which, frankly, is really petty and I expected more from you than whinings of a petulant child.”

“I am no more a child than you are.”

“Fair point, but don’t change the subject.”  Natasha moves a step closer.  “It’s true that he motivated further research into the super soldier serum, which I’m guessing is why you haven’t been able to work yourself to death after I destroyed the Red Room.  You feel aimless, like maybe killing the source will bring you some peace before your end.”

Yelena stands abruptly, hauling Bruce up as she goes.  She draws a knife slowly, almost with relish, and holds it against Bruce’s throat, her eyes never leaving Natasha’s.

“Tasha,” Bruce croaks, finally seeing her.

“Careful,” Yelena warns.  “My hand could slip.  Sometimes I confuse my left from my right; you never know.”

“That’s true,” Natasha admits.  She moves like a snake, not giving Yelena time to react, grabbing Yelena’s blade and feeling it slice into her hand, but in doing so she shield’s Bruce’s throat from the knife, and at the same time brings her own weapon to slash into the other woman’s jugular.

Bruce cries out again; Yelena in her death throes means that her pulse has increased.  Thankfully, it doesn’t take Natasha long to find the wire attached to the base of his neck and to remove it, leaving him to collapse against her.  There is the deep cut on her hand, and there is Yelena’s blood all over the both of them, but right now Natasha can only hear the blood pounding in her ears and feel his warmth and think _what if what if what if_ -

“I’m sorry,” Bruce eventually whispers.

“No,” she says harshly, tightening her hold around him.  “No you don’t.  This is not your fault.”

She feels a hand on her face, leaving something wet there (probably more blood), and looks down at Bruce, who is staring at her like she’s some kind of angel.  She wishes she wouldn’t; there is evidence of how very far from an angel she is not two feet away from them right now.  The trust that he’s showing her, even now, is unbearable to witness.  Natasha swallows hard and feels like screaming.

(How does she tell him that she was once Yelena?)

“I love you,” he breathes.

Natasha chokes on a laugh.  “You have quite the sense of timing, Bruce.”

“I think you need to hear it.”

This isn’t the way things are supposed to be.  They’re supposed to be working together with the other Avengers, not in some hideaway in Mongolia with him in her arms, recovering from some of the worst pain in his life.  She isn’t supposed to find herself in these kinds of macabre settings anymore; Bruce deserves better than this.

But - but - 

“I love you too.”


End file.
